


hard to see the light now

by adrina_stark



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, a whole bunch of Marian ships, kind of anti-Robin Hood, ships abound, some will be modern AUs while others are set in the Enchanted Forest, this is my way of dealing with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrina_stark/pseuds/adrina_stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Marian of Locksley, mother, warrior, finding the love she deserves various other characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emma

They didn’t meet in the most conventional of ways. In fact, Emma was sure that ‘arresting-their-husband-for-jumping-bail’ was probably in the top five of strangest ways to meet people. Their first meeting was less than a week ago, when Emma assigned to her case after Marian’s husband never showed up to his court date. The other woman had bags under her eyes and her finger fiddled in her long cardigan sleeves but her back was ramrod straight and her voice was steady as she explained the situation. Emma’s nails dug into her palms as she heard that the apparent thief had decided a rendezvous with his girlfriend was more important than his wife and child getting their money back.

 

Emma wasn’t gentle when she took him down.

 

Marian’s glaring as Emma’s carts Robin across the precinct, having wanted to be there when Emma brought him in. If Marian had a weapon at this moment, it would probably be making its way to his heart.

 

Her eyes are ice cold until Robin disappears around a corner and she slumps, her strength leaving in a heavy breath.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emma says awkwardly, bringing an arm around the other woman’s shoulder and guiding to a bench.

 

People flit past as Emma rubs circles on Marian’s back, much like she used to do for Henry when he got sick. She allows herself to drift, the buzz of movement filling her ears as she allows Marian to recover.

 

“I’m sorry,” Marian eventually says, “I thought it would be satisfying watching him brought in, but it just brings back...”

 

“Everything you’ve lost,” Emma supplies.

 

Marian’s eyes are glittering as she looks up and the urge to be able to tackle one Robin Locksley again rises in Emma, “I suspected he hadn’t loved me in some time, but I thought it was best for Roland. Isn’t that stupid? And now look what my son has to go through.”

 

Marian presses her cardigan covered palms into her eyes then lightly slaps her face, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

 

Emma is about to protest when Marian continues, moving to stand, “I need to go be with my son but if you come by my-”, she stumbles over the word, perhaps realising that it is now in fact hers, “-my diner, you can have a drink on the house. More than one, I owe you so much, Emma.”

 

Emma stutters, barely saying, “It’s just my job,” before Marian is striding away, steps once again steady and unflinching.

 

* * *

 

Emma doesn’t go to the diner that night, or the night after. It is Friday night when she sits in her empty apartment – Henry having gone to spent the night with his uncle, after she extracted David’s and Mary Margaret’s solemn promise to not show Henry how ‘fun’ they could be again – that Emma realises she’s lonely and really could use a drink.

 

She doesn’t have a valid excuse yet as to why she passes six perfectly good bars to go to a diner that isn’t exactly close to where she lives, maybe she’ll blame a fit of whimsy (even she should have one of those at least once in her life).

 

The diner door is heavy as she pushes it open, taking in the homely atmosphere. It is a crowded evening as Emma makes her way to a stool, searching for Marian.

 

“You came,” a voice behind her says as Emma sits.

 

She swivels to face Marian, tray balanced precariously on her arm and bright expression on her face.

 

Emma shrugs, “Who turns down a free drink?”

 

Marian laughs, a carefree sound, and makes her way around the bar, passing the tray to one of her staff, “Now isn’t that the truth.”

 

She pours two healthy shots with an ease that speaks of experience as Emma raises an eyebrow, “You keep that stuff in a diner?”

 

The other woman shrugs, “It only comes out once the dinner crowd has gone, have to do what sells,” she raises her glass, her smile fading around the edges, “To those who catch worthless husbands.”

 

Emma smirks, “To getting our money back.”

 

The shot burns as it goes down, a sensation Emma hasn’t had in quite some time.

 

“How’s Roland doing?” Emma asks, once her throat seems to have adjusted.

 

Marian sighs and shakes her head, “He wants to know when daddy’s coming home. I left him with some friends of mine tonight, I’m hoping their baby will distract him. He loves playing with Philip and Mulan always does the best mock swordfights.”

 

“That’s the tough part,” Emma agrees.  
  
“You have a child?” Marian asks.

 

Emma doesn’t have to force her smile, “Henry, he’s twelve going on thirty. I just wish I could be sure that his maturity is a part of his nature rather than his mother making him grow up too fast.”

 

Marian seems to understand there’s really nothing to say to that as she pours another shot, “To our children.”

 

“To our children,” Emma echoes and drinks, finding the second one easier.

 

Emma’s not sure if it’s her slight buzz (she really is losing her edge) or the experiences the two of them share, but Emma finds herself saying, “It could be worse, you know.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Marian replies, voice laced with sarcasm.

 

Emma finds a bottle behind the bar to study, “He could have set you up for his crime and left you to pay the price.”

 

She hears Marian’s intake of breath and prepares herself for the platitudes, the pity and regrets ever opening her mouth. She is quite surprised when a warm hand is placed on top of her own, her eyes shifting to Marian’s fiery ones.

 

“Men are dicks,” she says fiercely, and somehow it’s the perfect thing to say as they laugh, Emma’s mood lifting instantly.

 

“I’m never dating another man again,” Emma declares and Marian nods her head in acknowledgment, pouring another shot.

 

“I’ll drink to that,” and somehow, their glasses clinking sounds like hope.

 

* * *

 

Emma tells herself many excuses as to why she so often winds up ordering at a diner that is out of her way. She likes to ambience, she tells herself, and the smell of pine. She reminds herself how much she likes the onion rings as she rushes to a meeting with a client.

 

She ignores certain facts, like how she never sticks around long if a certain brunette isn’t around or how she always feels the urge to check her hair and makeup before going in.

 

She most definitely does not admire Marian as she leans over the bar, dark blue jeans hugging her curves. And she certainly doesn’t start to memorise her laugh or seek out her earthy scent. And Emma does not take away notice of the electricity that sparks between them whenever their hands brush, not even a little.

 

There is a young boy seated on a stool one day as she comes in for lunch, hunched over his drawing. He is an adorable child, all dimples and curly hair and she feels a pang for the days when Henry was that small. She loves her son but she also misses the days before hormones.

 

“What are you drawing there, kid?” She asks as Aurora puts in her order, ignoring the fact that young woman didn’t even need to ask.

 

“My forest family,” he replies sweetly, “We all live there in the trees.”

 

“Sounds pretty cool,” she says, “Although, I think my kid would miss his Xbox.”

 

Roland looks up at her and nods, “We would have to fix that.”    

 

Emma gasps as she recognises that solemn sadness in his eyes, so similar to his mother.

 

“I hope you’re being a wonderful host, Roland,” Marian chides as she exits the kitchen and Emma catalogues the similarities between mother and child (she has a momentarily jealously for all the features Roland inherited, wishing Henry took on more of her features before she pushes it aside).

 

“He’s been very good,” she assures Marian, “I was just making some suggestions to his drawing.”

 

“This is where Aurora, Mulan and Phil live,” he pipes up, pointing to three brown and green squiggles, “And here is our tree. It’s a bit smaller because it’s just you and me.”

 

Roland continues to draw, innocent of the broken expression on his mother’s face as Emma reaches over to grasp the hand resting on the countertop. She pours what strength into the gesture she can and pulls back when Aurora returns with her order.

 

“Here we go, Emma,” Aurora says cheerfully, passing over the container before turning to Roland, “Am I in this picture, munchkin?”

 

Roland’s face scrunches adorably as he protests, “I’m not a munchkin.”

 

“Hm,” Aurora muses before smiling brightly, “How about a hobbit?” Roland protests again and she ruffles his hair, the young boy erupting into giggles.

 

“He’ll be alright,” Emma whispers.

 

“So will Henry,” Marian replies quietly.

 

* * *

 

It’s after then that Emma decides to bring Henry in. It seems like a big step, only one person she’d dated since Neal had actually met Henry and sure, Marian and Emma aren’t actually dating but it feels like a thing and Emma is starting to look forward to what it might become.

 

And besides, they are, after all, somewhat in the neighbourhood after Henry’s football match and he does deserve a good meal after it.

 

This is what Emma tells herself as she pushes the heavy wooden door open, heart pounding in her chest.

 

Aurora is working today and waves happily behind the bar, gesturing to an empty booth. She brings over two menus and says brightly, “Good morning, Emma, always lovely to see you and you must be Henry! I’m Aurora, you tell me anything you need and I’ll grab it for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Henry says, a faint blush to his cheeks. Emma chuckles to herself and buries her face in her menu when Henry glares.

 

“Do you come here a lot, Mom?” Henry asks, once they’ve ordered.

 

“I like it,” Emma shrugs.

 

“I heard we had a special guest today,” Marian says, walking out with Roland at her side. Henry is watching her as she admires Marian’s jeans and shirt combination and she has to tear her eyes away before he suspects anything, “Marian, I’d like you to meet my son, Henry.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Henry,” Marian says, holding out her hand, “Your mother has told me very good things about you.”

 

“What else is there to say?” He says cheekily, shaking her hand and ignoring Emma’s noise of protest.

 

“I’m Roland,” Roland says, dimples on display. He copies his mother’s offer of a handshake, glancing back to her to make sure he does it correctly and Henry takes it solemnly.

 

“Hello Roland,” Henry seems to assess Emma for a moment before continuing, “Are you two busy? Mom and I just ordered and I’d love to hear more about the place.”

 

Emma’s glare could have killed but Henry looks steadfastly away, gauging Marian’s reaction, who, Emma eventually notices, is adorably flustered.

 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she starts.

 

“Only if you’re free,” Emma stutters.

 

And somehow just like that, Emma is either on a playdate or an actual date with her son tagging along. Regardless, the food is more than good and Emma laughs more than she can remember but she doesn’t thank her son, no matter how much he preens afterwards.

 

* * *

 

It is sometime after, after multiple trips with Henry and on her own. After she brings in David and Mary Margaret and they gang up with Marian to insist that archery is a much better sport for Henry than football (although David wants to add fencing and horse riding and somehow make her son into a modern knight, which Henry nods along with eagerly).

 

It is after she meets Aurora’s partner, Mulan and their son, Philip. She knows that Mulan is assessing Emma throughout their entire meeting but if she’s interpreting the nod she receives at the end of the meal, she passes whatever test the other woman had implemented.

 

It is on a cold night when they stay late in the diner, children safely under the protection of others, the staff and customers having left some time ago that Marian cracks open a bottle and toasts her divorce, seated on the floor of the staff room.

 

Their first kiss is sloppy, Emma tasting the champagne and doing her best to kiss Marian despite their idiotic smiles but it’s still the best kiss she’s had in years.


	2. Red

There is a legend followers of Artemis tell, a story of two young disciples, their names have been long since lost but it is a myth of a wolf and a maiden, or a hunter and a wolf, depending on who you ask. In every story, they are devoted followers of the Hunt. The truth of the tale has distorted over times and retellings. In some, they are lovers from youth who set out seeking adventure, in others, they are warriors on opposing sides and their love quells an old conflict. In rare versions, they are a team, partners, wives and equals, one gifted with supernatural abilities, the other with great courage and they fight against great injustices.

 

The truth is much simpler than that and starts in a way no one would ever expect.

 

* * *

 

Red sniffs, testing the air. She pads forward, paws sinking slightly into the soft earth as she attempts to locate her prey. Her face rises to the sky, staring at the almost perfect moon.

 

She shakes herself and kicks out her hind legs, not allowing the wolf to take over. Her nose returns to the ground, seeking the scent when there is a twang from behind her and before she can dodge, a silver bolt embeds itself into her back leg.

 

A howl escapes her and her head snaps to the Hunter – only someone trained would be carrying silver bolts – as she approaches, crossbow steady in her grip as she reloads. The moonlight highlights her narrow face and the fact there is no fear in her dark eyes.

 

Red tests her leg gingerly and – ignoring the burning sensation – considers it a minor issue. Just as the Hunter is about to fire, Red pounces, forcing her entire body weight onto the Hunter. She hears the clang as the crossbow drops to the forest floor and the slight hiss as a knife leaves its sheath and it is high time for Red to leave.

 

She pushes off the Hunter and bounds away – the best she can with an injured leg. She quickly disappears into the underbrush to lick her wounds and consider her next move.

 

* * *

 

Red groans as she regains consciousness, sunlight streaming through her window. She is suddenly glad she paid extra for her own room as she notices the mess she made as she stumbled back last night.

 

She lifts the blanket and examines her wound, cursing again. It would have been nearly healed by now if it hadn’t been for that nasty silver.

 

The smells from downstairs eventually encourage Red to rise from the bed and limp to her basin, washing and redressing the wound. It is more of an inconvenience than anything but she was simply glad she has another two nights of transformations to speed up the healing process.

 

She pulls out a dress, deciding she hopefully won’t need to manoeuvrability of pants today and the skirt will help to hide her wound from prying eyes. She grabs her necklace from the nightstand, pulling it over her head, the bow and arrow of Artemis falling between her breasts. Traditional necklaces are made from silver but she’s pretty sure the Goddess has bigger things to worry about than minor changes to pendants.

 

Once she is satisfied with her appearance – what she can see in her warped mirror – she makes her way downstairs for some breakfast.

 

She didn’t have time to eat while transformed last night and that always leaves her famished the next day, evidenced by the way she digs into the eggs and sausages provided.

 

The tavern is nearly empty at this hour of the morning, most patrons having their own work to do but Red’s head snaps when she hears footsteps on the landing, bringing scents of earth, grass and most distinctly, silver.

 

The steely-eyed woman – Hunter, she corrects – makes her way to the bar to order some breakfast and finds a table across the room from Ruby. She scoffs at her luck, of all the inns she decided to choose, she had to pick the one with the Hunter who actually managed to put a bolt in her.

 

Red scoops her last remnants of breakfast into her mouth and makes her way out of the tavern. There is no way the Hunter will be able to recognise her out of wolf form but she doesn’t like to take chances, especially when she has a job to do.

 

Their eyes lock as Red reaches the door, freezing like the rabbits she so often devours. The other woman’s gaze is hard and fierce but Red sees something deeper, a loneliness she often feels herself.

 

She pulls open the door before she can do anything idiotic and exits the building, breathing in the fresh air. She filters out the scents of people and the stench that comes with and focuses on the surrounding forest, until her lungs are filled with pine and damp earth.

 

Once calmed, she decides to pick up her trail from yesterday to make some progress before nightfall.

 

* * *

 

There is a peace that can be found as she races through the trees, paws barely touching the ground. She is connected to her environment, to the world and there is peace and that is the danger. If Red reveals in the peace for too long, the wolf will rise and take control and if she resists the peace, she will lose mastery of her form. It is a slippery slope, a dangerous battle, but one Red relishes every full moon.

 

Its power is strongest tonight and she feels it through her veins, unable to resist howling, grateful for her strength. The scent of the other is stronger tonight, likely savouring the same sensation Red is.

 

There is another scent – weaker, hidden – but Red detects it all the same, earth, grass, and silver and she treads cautiously, not wanting to have to deal with another bolt in her hide.

 

Both scents are growing stronger when Red hears a whine and a metallic smell invades her senses and she can almost feel the rage that must be building. She picks up her pace and emerges in a forest clearing to see the Hunter facing off with a copper wolf, one who was already bitten the bolt out.

 

The Hunter is quickly reloading, not backing down as the wolf approaches, growling and for a moment, Red waits. Her target is here, a nuisance to the wolf community evident by the fact – Red tests the scent of the wolf – he, she decides, brought a Hunter to his doorstep.

 

She had come to send a message about sticking to meat that won’t come to bite them all in the ass but clad in her wolf skin, she sees an opportunity. The moonlight fills her and she wishes for them to destroy the other, both dangers to her kind.

 

It is Red who bounds forward, not willing to let more human blood be spilt while she is under the influence of her wolf and pushes into the other wolf as he leaps at the Hunter. They struggle on the forest floor, biting and growling. She seeks his mind as she does so, coming up against his barriers but pushes against them, as much a fight as their physical one.

 

She smells the surprise of the Hunter and hopes she will not be an issue as she bares her teeth at the other wolf’s throat and he opens his mind to her, unresisting.

 

_What is your name, foolish one?_

_**Quinn.** _

 

_You know humans are off limits, Quinn._

**_Their meat is so much sweeter. We are the hunters! Why must we follow the whims of those who live in fear of humans?_ **

_Because, a sweet meal in your belly is not worth the death and pain you will bring to those who co-exist._

 

**_Cowards._ **

_You are the coward. This is your final chance, act out of line again and you will truly discover what it is to be prey._

 

Red nips at his throat, drawing blood and tasting, becoming more attuned to his scent. It would be very hard for him to hide from her now.

 

He bounds away when she moves off, whimpering all the while and Ruby turns her golden eyes to consider the Hunter, crossbow nocked.

 

“You saved me,” it’s a statement rather than a question and the Hunter lowers her crossbow with a sigh.

 

“I hadn’t realised you could be intelligent in wolf form,” the Hunter mutters, likely to herself but Red hears it anyway and does her best to emulate the human expression of disdain on her wolf’s face.

 

The message seems to get across as she detects the flush spreading across the other woman’s cheeks.

 

Red laughs, which comes out more as a yipping noise and then leaps away, the night cloaking her from the Hunter’s view.

 

* * *

 

Red spends her next day casually observing the Hunter, whom she eventually learns is named Marian. Marian surprises Red by loitering, she had expected the Hunter to leave and wonders if she is going to attempt another attack on herself or Quinn.

 

She looks up to the sky on her seat in the town square, feeling for her power. It is the last night of the transformation but the moon has weakened enough that she could likely resist the change if she tried.

 

Her eyes wander back to Marian, in a deep discussion with the blacksmith, likely having additional weapons forged. Red takes a moment to observe the other woman, her proud stance and educated tongue already setting her apart from the rest of the villagers. She is dressed in pants and a shirt, practical and patched, the only concession to style seeming to be her purple cloak.

 

She idly wonders how many knives she has stashed about her person and dismisses the thought that it would be fun to find out. Her attraction to the other woman comes as no surprise to Red as Marian is quite the beauty, especially with her obvious wit and courage. But she is a Hunter and that thought should quell all of Red’s ardour. She stretches out her body in an attempt to flush the emotions out, wondering if it is an effect of the primal emotions the wolf feels.

 

The deal seems to have been completed as Marian walks away, smelling pleased. She is distracted from her path back to the inn by some children in the square, aiming slingshots at pigeons. There is a little girl sitting on the edge of the group, obviously wishing to join and likely told to sit out by the boys.

 

Marian walks over to her and removes her cloak, carefully laying it next to her before squatting at the girl’s level. Red is distracted from what they are saying by the necklace that dangles out of Marian’s shirt and finds its golden twin in her own shirt, rubbing the bow and arrow.

 

She sits back on the bench bitterly, wondering how two worshippers of Artemis came to be on different sides. Artemis was Goddess of the Hunt, wild animals, the Moon and forests. How then could Marian hunt those who could only reveal themselves by one of Artemis’ sacred symbols?

 

Soon enough, the girl is using her sling shot with the boys and actually manages to hit one of the pigeons, quickly scrambling to grab her prize, likely to go in her families’ cook pot. She considers Marian then and wonders which one, if any one of them, would have Artemis’ favour.

 

* * *

 

Red is correct in her assumption that Marian would return to the forest that night. What she had not expected was to see Marian seated in the same clearing she saved her life, crossbow intentionally left out of reach.

 

If she hadn’t been able to hear the other woman’s heartbeat, she would have guessed she was completely calm, still in control of the situation even though she was literally asking to speak with a werewolf on the night of a full moon, fading though it may be.

 

Red pads forward, no longer attempting to hide her presence and Marian’s eyes snap open, her heart rate spiking. Her eyes are still steely and her voice is steady, Red is impressed.

 

“I was hoping you would come,” she says clearly and Red dips her head.

 

“Is there a way for us to talk?” She ventures, “Or do I have to interpret your growls and snuffles?”

 

Red frowns at that – as much she can in wolf form – and cocks her head to the side, a question.

 

“I vow not to hurt you,” Marian says, pulling out her pendant, “I swear it on the Lady’s name.”

 

She considers, head still tilted to the side. She should walk away, most would consider it suicide to reveal their human form to a Hunter. But Red is nothing but curious and allows her body to change, fur receding and limps extending.

 

Red stretches, adjusting to her different form and moves to sit before Marian, who is gaping in shock.

 

“You?” Marian whispers incredulously. She quickly pulls her cloak off and passes it to Red as she sits, Red accepting it after a moment. She often forgets after being the wolf that skin is something that needs to be covered.

 

“What did you wish to speak about?” Red asks huskily, clearing her throat.

 

“You saved my life.”

 

“That’s not a question.”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

Red sighs and adjusts on the ground, not finding it as comfortable as when she is in her other form.

 

“What of it?” She asks impatiently.

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

“Quinn has taken enough lives, I would not have been doing my job if I let him take another.”

 

“You have a job?” Marian asks, surprise lacing her tone.

 

“What do you think we do?” Red snaps, “Laze around for most of the month before we go on rampages?”

 

“I had never really considered it.”

 

Red sighs, her anger suddenly leaving her, “And that is the problem.”

 

“Then help me understand,” the other woman says, leaning forward slightly, “You let him go, even after he killed people.”

 

“We don’t like to kill our own kind, he’s had his warning and if he chooses it ignore it, we will deal with it,” Red explains evenly.

 

“’We’, I’ve never heard of a community of werewolves.”

 

“Oh no,” Red laughs, “I’m not going to give you all our secrets.”

 

There is a pause before Marian says quietly, “You don’t have a bite mark.”

 

Red tilts her head, considering, “Do you know I worship Artemis as well? I leave her offerings and often pray to her. Many werewolves do. Goddess of the Hunt, Moon and wild animals?” Ruby laughs, “Many consider her our Goddess. Although, obviously, we cannot use the traditional silver for our pendants.”

 

Marian looks surprised, rubbing her own pendant as Red considers, “My Granny worshipped, secretly, I never thought much of it until I abandoned my magical cloak and discovered I was a werewolf,” she raises her voice slightly, revealing a truth she doubts most Hunters realise, “I was never bitten or scratched, like my mother before me. My Granny was the one who was bitten and you and your kind would kill me for something I was simply born with.”

 

“That’s impossible,” Marian gapes.

 

“And yet here I am,” Red smirks.

 

“I’m sorry, it just goes against everything I was taught.”

 

“I would say you still have a lot to learn.”

 

“Then teach me,” Marian whispers, eyes sincere, “Help me learn.”

 

And with that request, their strange alliance begins. It would be a long time before they commenced the romance of legends, it is after the close calls, sharing of knowledge and heartbreak and the trust builds that one night, after Marian pulls a bolt out of Ruby’s thigh and they laugh over the wound that their lips touch and some would say it was always meant to be.


End file.
